Of Shadows and Sunlight
by Vanaerys
Summary: When Draco finds that he's been charged with a task by Voldemort himself, he finds that it fits in perfectly with his own plans. But as we all know, plans can change, and with Harry slipping further into darkness, things may be getting out of control...


Disclaimer: Sigh.  
  
Note: I don't know. Personally, I don't really like it that much-too wordy. But I just thought I'd put it out there and see, so please, please review and tell me what you think! Oh...and pardon for any formatting errors there might be.   
  
It was late in the night when Lucius received his Summoning from the Dark Lord. Rubbing his arm where the Mark was branded with a soft curse, he swung his legs over the side of the huge, four-posted bed he shared with his wife and stood. He did not so much as yawn or rub his eyes sleepily; he was wide awake, and had been for some time. He also did not light the candle that sat on the table next to the bed. There was a full moon outside, and the pale shaft that shone through the window was all the light he needed, and then some.  
  
Already dressed, he fastened his heavy, dark cloak around his shoulders and grabbed the silver snakehead-topped cane that held his wand. He fingered it nervously, drawing a deep breath; personal summons from the Dark Lord were rare in their occurrences, if they ever even happened at all. Certainly it had been a quiet summer, with not a single Death Eater meeting called. Rumor had been that Voldemort was gone, at least for a while. Where, no one knew. The only thing certain in the mind of every Death Eater was that their master had been very, very angry after their failure to both obtain the Prophecy and capture the Potter boy. And so it was that Lucius, most likely with good cause, rather feared for his life tonight. But the call was too strong for him to ignore, so he did as he was directed: he Apparated.  
  
The air held a slight chill when he reappeared, as if late summer would only grudgingly give way to early fall. He didn't to pay any mind to the weather, though; casting a distasteful glance at the dirt road he had landed on, he set off at a brisk walk towards the scattered lights of the small town that lay ahead. Performing magic was forbidden within a mile of the place where the Dark Lord made his home; secrecy was of the utmost importance, and if the townspeople were to have yet another reminder of strange goings-on......suffice to say that rule breakers were punished severely. But Lucius was a cautious man, and it was a dangerous master that he served. He never broke the rules.  
  
Entering the town, he could not prevent the slight sneer that twisted his lips. While he couldn't deny the sense of concealing the Dark Lord's resurgence in a muggle town, it was just so...low. They were so low. In his opinion, it was past time when all muggles were dealt with in the only appropriate way: subjugation to the higher class, the wizards that walked unrecognized amongst them every day. The world of magic had been in hiding for too long. Why, even today he remembered the stories his father had told him when he was young of the Old Days, when-  
  
Hurriedly, Lucius cut off that line of thought. If it were ever suspected that he was growing too ambitious or striving to reach too far ahead without permission from the Master...no. That would never do. So in the meantime, he would further the causes he was told to further within the Ministry, serve faithfully, and wait patiently. And when the time came to bring the Old Days back...his sneer turned into an unpleasant smile that would have chilled the blood of even the bravest muggle. Oh, yes-the time would come.  
  
If he survived tonight.  
  
So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he didn't even realize that he had already passed through the town's graveyard. Pausing for a moment, he glanced at it over his shoulder. Not a single shadow moved, and the bright moon shone steadily on new and old tombstones alike. Even in the semi- dark, however, Lucius' sharp eyes could pick out the few stones that had chipped, ragged edges, as if they had been hit by some huge force. Great events had transpired here barely a year and a half ago; he remembered them clearly. It was here that his Lord had been restored to a real body, and the Potter boy had had a large part in that, as was only fitting.  
  
The call had become stronger, dragging his eyes away from the graveyard and to the large mansion that humped out of the night in front of him. Grasping his cane tightly, he went to the back door and entered, making his way up through the dark, cobwebbed hallways to where he knew his master waited. He could feel, with every step he took, the tingle on his skin as he passed through ward after ward-protection against intruders.  
  
On the third floor of the house, just below the attic, only one door in the long corridor showed light underneath it. Without hesitating, Lucius strode to it, knocked twice, and entered. Bowing low without even taking the time to look around the room, he spoke quickly.  
  
"As I was summoned, so do I come, Lord."  
  
He waited, but for a long time there was no response. Finally daring to look up, he frowned and straightened angrily. The room was empty. Movement suddenly caught his eye, however, in the form of a thick, venomously green snake uncoiling from its spot on a rug near the fireplace. The flames, odd in the slight, lingering heat of summer, were made even odder by the fact that they, too, glowed green. The snake moved sinuously toward Lucius, who eyed it warily, wondering what he should do if it decided to attack. This seemed a very real possibility suddenly as it reared up-and kept going, changing smoothly into the tall, nearly skeletal form of a man with cold, slitted eyes and robes the color of dried blood. Lucius had no choice, despite his surprise; he knelt.  
  
"I'm glad to see your ambition has not outgrown your respect, Lucius," Voldemort said, a trace of amusement in his voice. It rasped like a metal file over stone, and there was a slight hissing quality that was barely recognizable for what it was unless one listened for it. Wisely, though perhaps not successfully, Lucius attempted humility.  
  
"I do not know what you mean, my Lord."  
  
"Don't play games with me, Lucius. I know your thoughts, and I tell you this now: do not make a single move that I myself have not directed you to make, or you can be sure that you will live to experience the consequences." The amusement was gone.  
  
Lucius' mouth was dry, and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. Was he speaking of his views on muggles? He had not been directed to stand yet, so he held his peace. Voldemort chuckled, and chills went down his spine.  
  
"I see you know what I mean. Good; I need no longer worry that you are a complete fool. You may rise."  
  
Lucius did, but kept his eyes carefully averted as the Dark Lord continued.  
  
"I suppose you are wondering why you, alone, have been summoned. The answer is very simple: Harry Potter. He is connected with your son, yes?"  
  
"They hate each other, my Lord."  
  
"Excellent. Then this is what I wish for you to tell him..." As Voldemort went on, Lucius could not hide his confusion; the plan made no sense.  
  
"Harry Potter will never willingly serve you, nor will he be easily tricked into joining with us," he pointed out warily once the plan had been presented. "The past five years are testament to that. His whole life is testament to that."  
  
The Dark Lord smiled, the skin of his face stretched tight around sharp cheekbones and those sunken, snakelike eyes.  
  
"Not anymore. What was your son's name again, Lucius?"  
  
"Draco. Draco Thomas Malfoy."  
  
"Of course...Draco." 


End file.
